A hidden Love
by FanWriter Harrison
Summary: Stephanie is the daughter to two death eaters, is about to have an initiation, to make her an official Death Eater like her parents. But Stephanie doesn't want to be a death eater, she doesn't want to live in a world ruled by Voldemort. And she isn't the only death eater that thinks that way. Draco Malfoy does as well. How do they escape war? Run? Fight? How can they be in love?
1. Chapter 1

Draco and Stephanie. A Hidden Love.

Chapter 1:

My Initiation

_"_All was well." I closed the last page of my book and hopped of my king sized, wooden four poster bed and walked over to my book case and slid the book back inside. I looked around my room, looking for anything to cure to my boredom.

To the left of my bed was the fireplace, small but still beautifully designed, white marble, a long oversized mantelpiece were covered in photo's of myself, my family and "Friends" The only picture that I liked up there was the brown rat I owned.

Firefly was her name.

I walked to the fireplace and looked into the giant mirror above it, the framework carved with fine roses. I looked at my reflection, and sighed.

The big mirror showed me a face I was bored of seeing. The face in the mirror was roundish but not quite circular, more of an oval. The skin on the face had a silver undertone-silver like moonlight.

Her thinly plucked eyebrows were shaped into deceivingly perfect arches that followed the slight curve of her wide-set eyes which gave her a look of longing. The girl had large clouded brown eyes and long lashes which echoed the look of salt-of-the-earth honesty. A small, straight nose hovered over her top lip which was slightly fuller than the lower, both were their natural light shade of peach.

Her black hair cascaded over her elegant shoulder, and she brushed her side fringe into place. It was my face, and I liked my face. But I hated the fact that every time I saw my own reflection I wasn't smiling, I wasn't happy.

I turned back to my room and slumped onto the luscious, soft dark burgundy love seat. I kicked my feet up onto the footrest and let my head fall back. Within minutes my mind had drifted and I was daftly blowing at my own hair, trying to get it out of my face.

Then I realized something, smiled and shot up, and hurried across my room, tripping over the chair as I did, I stubbed my toe and I was sure people down the street could have heard my yelp.

"God, Damn it." I swore, but I ignored it and dropped down by my Hogwarts trunk. I pulled my wand out of my jean's pocket. I looked down at my wand, I absolutely loved my wand.

My wand was a ten and three-quarter inch, light rosewood wand, with a Dragon heartstring core.

My wand's shaft was long and thin, and joined to the handle by a vase shaped piece of wood. The handle was slightly darker than the shaft, and had vines and thorns carved into it, the tip was smoothly curved. I pointed it at the snake lock on the handle and whispered.

"Alohomora." The bolt shot open and I rummaged through. There was old school books, I would need new ones soon as I would be starting my sixth year. I also found old school cloaks, a few phials for potions, and a pair of fingerless leather gloves Pansy had given me.

God! I despised that brat.

Then I found it.

My last copy of the Quibbler.

I loved to read the Quibbler, but my parents would kill me if they knew I read things by "That old Fool" Lovegood. I got about halfway through the Quibbler before I heard the high heels and I turned, panicked and threw the book across the room, it slid under the drapes by my bed. Hiding it.

My mother stood in the doorway. Her long black hair was bushy, beautiful but bushy as it fell down past her shoulders. She wore a long black dress, tight around her bust and waist but it flared out around her knees and feet. She had dark jeans on under the dress, adding to her confusing but somewhat stylish look, she had her cloak in her hand. She smiled at me, her lips bright red and her eyes, a dark green.

"Steph, you're father and I would like a word," she said, I got to my feet and followed her out, and into the upstairs study where my father stood, leaning against the marble fireplace, looking at the oil portrait of us all hanging above it with a glass of wine in his hand.

He wore dark trousers, a dark top and his black cloak was on, tightly. I noticed the metal mask in his free hand.

"Sylvia' my father moaned in a deep voice, "I told you I hadn't decided yet."

"Well I have, Raphael. She should know before it happens,"

"Before what happens?" I asked, slightly worried but curious.

My father looked at me for a long time before he sighed and turned away, giving up. My mother squealed and hurried to me and sat me down on the couch. She sat looking at me, with her hands on mine.

"Stephanie, _he_ has called us."

By he my mother meant the Dark Lord. Voldemort.

They were death eaters, my parents both of them proud, purebloods. Happy to follow the dark Lord and do anything for him. It disgusted me but I was raised not to question them, or the dark lord.

"He has called?" I asked, she nodded, a smile on her face.

"So you're going to him?" I asked, knowing it would be one of his meetings. My mother shook her head and I looked at her confused.

"We are going to him!" she shouted

My heart lurched in my chest, my stomach shot up my throat and I tensed up. "What do you mean 'We'"? I asked, terrified by what I was going to hear.

"Your sixteenth birthday was two months ago, okay, and we got you presents but we also got you another one we couldn't give until tonight...the dark lord has agreed to make you a death eater. Tonight is you're initiation!"

I stood up, about to shout, scream, run straight out the balcony of my mansion and jump but I was silent. Scared.

"Isn't that wonderful!" mother chimed, pulling me into a tight hug. I nodded sheepishly. "Now go get dressed, properly." she told me. I walked out of the room silently.

Holy crap.

Was this happening? I don't want to be a death eater! I didn't even want to be put in Slytherin a Hogwarts, I didn't want to turn dark!

I slammed my bedroom door shut with enough leverage to break the handle. I walked forward to my closet and got dressed.

Despite hating why I was dressing up, I had to admit I looked pretty good.

I wore dark jeans, and a white T-shirt. I slid my black cloak over my shoulders and tied it at the neck. I slid on my black boots that covered the bottom of my jeans up to my shin and then I sorted my hair out. My mother had tried to convince me to dye a part of my hair white, as if to look like the famous Narcissa Malfoy. Wife to Lucius Malfoy.

But everyone knew the Malfoy's weren't doing so well these days, so she stopped asking.

Thinking of the Malfoy family made me think of Draco, their son. Draco was in the year above me, the same year as my elder sister Daphne, who was away with a friend for a few weeks. Draco was good friends with Daphne, but I hadn't spoken to him, well, small talk while walking to class together, or in the great hall but nothing big.

Which surprisingly disappointed me?

My mind was still on Draco when my mother and father collected me from my room and we walked through the dark hallways of my home. Portraits of past family members hung on the wall, covered in dust. The staff were lacking, my mother would be sure to sack a few, who knew, maybe even curse some of them.

That's the difference between my mother and I. She liked to kill, I did not. But they didn't seem to care what I wanted; my future had been lain out for me. We walked out onto the balcony and my father disaparated immediately; my mother smiled and followed him. Once they were gone I stopped standing straight and leaned against the marble railing.

I felt tears coming on, and a lump swelling in my throat. I wiped the tears away and tried to take deep breaths. This was happening. I didn't have a choice on the matter. If I went tonight and refused to join him when he had said it was going to happen, then I would have two options. Join or die.

But my fear was stiring, with something else. Draco had his initiation last year, which meant he'll be there tonight. Which means I'd see him?

Was I more scared of the initiation, or seeing the boy I had crushed on for god knows how many years. It didn't matter, either way both would happen so I sucked in my fear, held my wand tight in hand and apparated to Malfoy Manor.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco and Stephanie. A Hidden Love.

Chapter2:

The Meeting

I appeared out of thin air before the giant

As we approached the mansion, I couldn't help but hold my breath as I took in its magnificence. The wrought iron gates with the ornate flower design rattled in the gentle breeze. A fountain gurgled merrily down below, water spraying from the always smiling cherubs' jars and pots. I turned to the mansion itself.

I could feel my jaw drop to the floor. There were at least four floors and the thing was wider than one of the mountains behind it. Ivy crawled up on one side, and rose bushes and other scented flowers grew around its edge. Intricate stained glass adorned nearly every window, and there were spirals coming out of it, like a castle you'd imagine in a movie. It was made of thick, black stone. I took a step closer and took in the essence of the home. I could see two cloaked figures stood outside, I recognized them immediately.

Death Eaters.

My parents walked towards the gates and flicked their wands, then walked straight though the bars as if they were made of nothing, as I hurried behind them I flicked my own wand, remembering the spell and hesitated but then walked through the bars like they were nothing. I hurried and walked directly behind my parents who looked so...evil.

My father looked dark, evil, with the way he strode next to me, the dark cloak he wore billowed in the wind behind him as he walked. My mother looked sly as she walked, her shoulders moving back and forth, she had a feline quality to her. I just walked normally, and scared.

We entered and I followed them, they seemed to know where they were going and soon they stopped outside of a wooden door with a brass handle. My mother looked at me, smiled and nodded and they opened the door and walked inside.

The drawing room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table. The Room's usual furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls. Illumination came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece, surmounted by a gilded mirror.

There was a grand chair at the head of the table with a tall back and made of a soft material, I couldn't see the figure in the chair though I knew who it was. All around the table death eaters sat but very few had actually turned to look at us, I didn't look at them.

I looked at the body floating in the air.

A woman, she revolved slowly, as if suspended by an invisible rope.

Then I saw a long thin and bone like hand lit up, he had long, dirty nails.

"Ah..." a high clear voice said."I'm glad you made it, Sylvia, Raphael...take your seats. My mother and father walked forward; there were three empty chairs on the left of the dark Lord and one empty on his direct left. I noticed the boy in the chair next to the empty one.

Draco Malfoy. My heart beat accelerated and he saw me, and looked scared. My mother and father took the seats on Voldemort's left, leaving one empty.

"Ah yes, for those of you who do not know...this is Stephanie. Daughter to Sylvia and Raphael, she has joined us here tonight for her initiation." a few people murmured happily then the Lord beckoned me forward. "Come Stephanie, take a seat here, next to dear Draco." he said,

"Yes my Lord." I said, my mother smiled proudly which made me sick and I walked behind his chair, once hidden for that one second I took in a deep breath then walked around his chair looking normal, brave. I sat next to Draco and shot him a glance; he looked at me but wasn't smiling. Nor was I. I looked up at the body above us. I think I knew her?

The Lord looked at me and I looked at him. His pale, translucent skin made mine crawl. His nose two slits, like a snake and his eyes, bright red, looking into my soul.

"How are you...my dear?" he asked.

I had to think, um, he was my lord; I had to love him, honour him. Treat him with respect. "Um, thankful my Lord." I bowed my head to him and he smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. It made my skin crawl, he turned to my parents.

"You have raised you're daughter perfectly,"

"Thank you my lord." my mother and father said at the same time, bowing their own head's

Not long later I heard footsteps and two figures walked in, and I almost gasped but had to hold it in. Next to the famous death eater I knew was Yaxley, stood Severus Snape. My old Potion's teacher, the head of my house at Hogwarts and the man who killed Dumbledore.

"Yaxley, Snape," said Voldemort. "You are very nearly late."  
"Severus, here," said Voldemort, indication the seat on his immediate right, next to my father. The seat directly opposite my own.  
"Yaxley—beside Dolohov."  
The two men took their allotted places.  
"So?" Voldemort asked,  
"My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall."  
The interest around the table sharpened palpably; some stiffened, others fidgeted, all gazing at Snape and Voldemort. Harry Potter? They now new when he would be moved? For some unknown reason I felt a sting of worry for Harry.  
"Saturday . . . at nightfall," repeated Voldemort. The two stared at each other, but a second later Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.  
"Good. Very good. And this information comes—"  
"—from the source we discussed," said Snape.  
"My Lord."  
Yaxley had leaned forward to look down the long table at Voldemort and Snape. I turned to watch him,  
"My Lord, I have heard differently,"  
Yaxley waited but Voldemort did not speak, so he went on, "Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns seventeen."  
Snape smiled.  
"My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible." Snape said.  
"I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain," said Yaxley.  
"If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain," said Snape. "I assure you, Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry."  
"The Order's got one thing right, then, eh?" one man close to Yaxley said. A few people had hushed laughs. Voldemort did not laugh. His gaze had wandered upward to the body revolving slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.  
"My Lord," Yaxley went on, "Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boy—"  
Voldemort held up a large white hand, and Yaxley subsided at once, watching resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape.  
"Where are they going to hide the boy next?"  
"At the home of one of the Order," said Snape. "The place, according to the source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless, of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest."  
"Well, Yaxley?" Voldemort called down the table, "Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?"  
Once again, all heads turned. Yaxley squared his shoulders.  
"My Lord, I have good news on that score. I have—with difficulty, and after great effort—succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse." Many of those sitting around Yaxley looked impressed; his neighbour, my uncle who was Dolohov, a man with a long, twisted face, clapped him on the back.  
"It is a start," said Voldemort. "But Thicknesse is only one man. Scrimgeour must be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will set me back a long way."  
"Yes—my Lord that is true— buy you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. I will, I think, be easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down."  
"As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest," said Voldemort. "At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, the it must be done while he travels."  
"We are at an advantage there, my Lord," said Yaxley, who seemed determined to receive some portion of approval. It was pathetic. "We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately."  
"He will not do either," said Snape. "The order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place."  
"All the better," said Voldemort. "He will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far." Voldemort cracked a smile now, and it made me want to vomit. I turned to Draco, and looked at him. Stiff like a bored in his seat. His face blank.  
" I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs." I watched as Voldemort seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of them, still addressing the unconscious body above him.  
"I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be." Suddenly a wail sounded, a terrible, drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Many of those at the table looked downward, startled, for the sound had seemed to issue from below their feet. I was one of them, my heart beat racing, and I eyed the door. Could I make a run for it? Of course not. If Voldemort didn't kill me.

My parents would.

"Wormtail," said Voldemort, with no change in his quiet, thoughtful tone, and without removing his eyes from the revolving body above, "have I not spoken to you about keeping our prisoner quiet?"  
"Yes, m-my Lord," gasped Wormtail, the Traitor to the Order. I hated him. But why? I should be on okay terms with him now he was on our side?

But what was my side?

Wormtail left the room and Voldemort went on.  
"As I was saying, I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter." The faces around his displayed nothing but shock; he might have announced  
that he wanted to borrow one of their arms.  
"No volunteers?" said Voldemort. "Let's see . . . Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore." I turned and Draco had turned as well, he looked passed Narcissa, his mother and at his father who's skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. When he spoke, his voice  
was hoarse.  
"My Lord?"  
"Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand." Voldemort replied.  
"I . . . "  
Malfoy glanced sideways at his wife. She was staring straight ahead, quite as pale as he was, her long blonde hair hanging down her back. Malfoy put his hand into his robes, withdrew a wand, and passed it along to Voldemort, who held it up in from of his red eyes, examining it closely.  
"What is it?"  
"Elm, my Lord," whispered Malfoy.  
"And the core?"  
"Dragon—dragon heartstring."  
"Good," said Voldemort. He drew out his own wand and compared the lengths. Lucius Malfoy made an involuntary movement; for a fraction of a second, it seemed he expected to receive Voldemort's want in exchange for his own.

I felt like cringing, I knew an act like that would not go unseen.  
The gesture was not missed by Voldemort, whose eyes widened maliciously.  
"Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand? I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you? But I have noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late . . . What is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?"

I knew the Malfoy's felt that way, I knew Draco, who was shaking at my side felt that way.  
"Nothing—nothing, my Lord!"  
"Such lies, Lucius . . . " The soft voice seems to hiss on even after the cruel mouth had stopped moving. What was that noise? I could tell it wasn't from Voldemort? But who-

The huge snake emerged to climb slowly up Voldemort's chair. It rose, seemingly endlessly, and came to rest across Voldemort's shoulders; its neck the thickness of a man's thigh; its eyes, with their vertical slits for pupils, unblinking. Voldemort stroked the creature absently with long thin fingers, still looking at Lucius Malfoy.

Nagini.

I had heard of her.

Which is probably why I wept inside?  
"Why do the Malfoy's look so unhappy with their lot? Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?"  
"Of course, my Lord," said Lucius Malfoy. His hand shook as he wiped sweat  
from his upper lip. "We did desire it—we do."  
To Malfoy's left, his wife made an odd, stiff nod, her eyes averted from Voldemort and the snake. Then Malfoy looked at Draco, as did I, who had been gazing up at the inert body overhead, glanced quickly at Voldemort and away again, terrified to make eye contact.  
"My Lord," said a dark woman halfway down the table, her voice constricted with emotion,

I knew that voice anywhere.

She was as bad as the snake.

"It is an honour to have you here, in our family's house. There can be no higher pleasure."

Bellatrix.

She sat, her dark hair in a tumble, her heavy lidded eyes staring down the table, Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, for mere words could  
not demonstrate her longer for closeness.

"No higher pleasure," repeated Voldemort, his head tilted a little to one side as he considered Bellatrix. "That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you," Her face flooded with colour; her eyes welled with tears of delight. That sick woman!  
"My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!"  
"No higher pleasure . . . even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?"  
She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused.  
"I don't know what you mean, my Lord."  
"I'm talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud." There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant where that at Bellatrix and the Malfoy's' humiliation. But I did hear it, and I cringed away. Voldemort looked at me, but then looked back at the table. Bellatrix's face, so recently flushed with  
happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.  
"She is no niece of ours, my Lord," she cried "We—Narcissa and I—have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries."  
"What say you, Draco?" asked Voldemort, and though his voice was quiet, he looked at Draco. Draco risked a glance at him, but did not speak. "Will you babysit the cubs?"  
The hilarity mounted; Draco Malfoy looked in terror at his father, who was staring down into his own lap, then caught his mother's eye. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, then resumed her own deadpan stare at the opposite wall.  
"Enough," said Voldemort, stroking the angry snake. "Enough." And the laughter died at once.  
"Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time, you must prune yours must you not, to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest."  
"Yes, my Lord," whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude again. "At the first chance!"

Kill Tonks and Remus?  
"You shall have it," said Voldemort. "And in your family, so in the world . . . we shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain . . . "  
Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.  
"Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort.  
Snape raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of us were looking up at the captive now, I thought I recognized her?. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice. "Severus! Help me!"  
"Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.  
"And you, Draco?" asked Voldemort, stroking the snake's snout with his wand-free hand. Draco shook his head jerkily. Now that the woman had woken, he seemed unable to look at her anymore. He looked at me, tilted his head and I shook it.  
"But you would not have taken her classes," said Voldemort. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage, who until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Oh my god. Professor Burbage!  
"Yes . . . Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles . . . how they are not so different from us . . . " One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape again.  
"Severus . . . please . . . please . . . "  
"Silence," said Voldemort, with another twitch of Malfoy's wand, and Charity fell silent as if gagged. "Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defence of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept those thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance . . . She would have use all mate with Muggles . . . or, no doubt, werewolves . . . " Nobody laughed this time; There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Voldemort's voice. I could hear it. So did the others. For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape. Tears were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as she turned slowly away from his again.  
"Avada Kedavra."  
The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his onto the floor. I turned and unwillingly dropped to my knees next to him, I grabbed his hands and he looked up into my eyes.

Holy crap.

He just killed her!  
"Dinner, Nagini," said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and  
slithered from his shoulders onto the polished wood.


End file.
